The Zimbabwean government has once again outdone itself in its relentless quest to redefine “well-being,” for its teachers and civil servants.
By “well-being,” of course, we mean the art of tossing crumbs at them while inflation gallops unchecked, enough to make even the sharpest economist trade their spreadsheets for tissues.
As the first batch of November bonuses trickled in, teachers across the nation erupted in cautious celebration.
A glimmer of hope, perhaps, to clear a fraction of the debts piled up since the last time the government made vague promises of “better days ahead.”
Who needs financial stability, anyway, when you can revel in the abstract joy of rolling out a new, unfunded curriculum that leaves everyone,including the teachers, scratching their heads?
But why stop there?
The government added a twist of excitement to the lives of these educators with a game of “Find the Missing Bonus.”
Funny thing, teachers didn’t get a word or letter from the Ministry of Finance explaining why they won’t be receiving your bonus on time.
Teachers should forget salary transparency or punctuality, this is a government that thrives on unpredictability.
Who wouldn’t enjoy spinning the wheel of fortune to see if their bank account gets a November surprise or just another sad text message from EcoCash?
Paying teachers a salary equivalent to a couple of betting tickets or two trips to a chicken-and-chips outlet isn’t just negligence; it’s strategy.
By ensuring educators live on the edge of poverty, the government is cultivating an entire workforce brimming with “resilience” and “innovation.”
After all, nothing says resourcefulness like figuring out how to teach on an empty stomach while dodging creditors.
One Harare teacher, visibly exhausted but committed to their craft, remarked, “I’m just trying to survive.”
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“Can someone please just pay me my bonus on time,” added the teacher.
Meanwhile, a veteran teacher in Jotsholo, with 23 years of experience, reflected, “My students scored high in their Grade 7 exams.
“Their parents celebrated, but they don’t know their child’s teacher is battling depression because the government treats us like disposable assets,” lamented the teacher.
While the majority of teachers drown in financial despair, the government’s pet project, Teachers4ED, has found something to celebrate.
At least their contributions helped fund Zanu PF’s latest conference, ensuring that Ruka Chivende and his entourage were well-fed and hydrated.
Nothing like a hearty meal and a sparkling bottle of mineral water to quench the thirst for leadership at the expense of educators’ livelihoods.
But let’s give credit where it’s due, the government is nothing if not consistent in its ability to ignite outrage among teachers.
Every decision, every delay, every nonsensical excuse is a masterstroke in maintaining the delicate balance between chaos and incompetence.
In a statement dripping with irony, a government spokesperson declared,“We are deeply committed to the welfare of our teachers and we are quite confident that they will smile all the way to their respective banks to receive their annual bonuses starting from November.”
Zimbabwean teachers are the unsung heroes of a nation that treats them as expendable.
They mold young minds, navigate the complexities of underfunded curricula, and endure the indignities of a system that refuses to value them. And yet, they persist.
So here’s to the teachers of Zimbabwe, resilient, innovative, and eternally patient.
If only our government had a fraction of their dedication, maybe, just maybe, there’d be something to smile about.
